Watch The Crown Rust Away
by Maestus
Summary: John Watson walked past that room every day and every day he wished the same thing. He wished he could storm in and demand that the man face up to his actions, even if all it was was an empty husk hooked up to machines. No, nothing remained of Jim Moriarty but that didn't mean some small part of John longed for a revenge he could never have.


**This is something I've been working on for a while; it may turn into a two parter or I might just leave it as it is. Warnings for slash and language. Features the pairing of Jim Moriarty/Sebastian Moran.**

**This is set after The Reichenbach Fall and is most likely slightly AU.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock. I wish I did but it belongs to the BBC. Maybe one day...**

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It hurt. Every time he walked past that lifeless room, it was like ripping up the scabs all over again and allowing the blood to flow unhindered, melodramatic as it sounded. But he couldn't do anything about it; it wasn't like he could storm in and demand that the man face up to his actions. No, he wasn't even sure that what lay in that room was even classifiable as a man any more; it was just an empty husk hooked up to machines that were the only things that stood between it and death.

No, nothing remained of Jim Moriarty but that didn't mean that some small part of John Watson didn't long for a revenge he could never have. Some days, when he's at the end of his shift and there is nothing else for him to do, he goes into the room and just watches, listens to the steady rhythm of the heart monitor and the quiet whirr of the ventilator, surrounded by the beeps of a dozen other machines.

Clinically, he was brain dead, little more than a vegetable and would never be anything else. But until family was contacted, the hospital was willing to keep him on life support because as far as they were concerned, this was Richard Brook, the man who had both his life and sanity destroyed by the fraud Sherlock Holmes and had been driven to attempted suicide as a direct result. Well, it wasn't really attempted because in all respects but one he had succeeded, and there was nothing else that could be done for him other than keep him alive long enough for family and friends to say their last goodbyes.

At first, there had been a steady stream of people, all claiming to be close friends and acquaintances though John suspected the majority were the usual nut cases and weirdos wanting to feast their eyes on Britain's newest big name celebrity, but gradually even that had trickled to a halt until the only remaining visitor was John himself.

And he kept watch and dreamt of pulling the plug.

~~~linebreak~~~

The man appeared about 2 weeks after Sherlock's leap from St. Bart's, just when doctors had given up hope of finding any next of kin and were preparing to make the final decision. Tall and muscled with messy blonde hair, he wandered into reception almost dazedly and said he was looking for Richard Brook, mumbling about wrong contact numbers and business trips. He was absent-mindedly twirling a ring on his left hand; he caught John's curious gaze and muttered "engagement ring".

_Oh. _Suddenly, John had to look away, barely able to hold the stare. This was Jim Moriarty, or rather Richard Brook's fiancé standing before him, looking out of his depth and confused. He wondered whether the poor man knew about his husband-no-longer-to-be's alter ego or whether he was just another lost soul in a line of millions, strung along in Moriarty's wake. Vaguely, John remembered a ring, a coil of solid platinum, being listed amongst the psychopath's possessions.

The fiancé introduced himself as Jared Menzies and as he walked along the corridor beside John (who, at the moment, was on light duties only which made him laugh. After all, it wasn't like _he _was injured in any way or was heading for a mental breakdown the way Lestrade seemed to be going. No, he just needed to work...or risk that mental breakdown) and some part of the doctor mused on how _fake _that name sounded, like it had been conjured up off the top of his head. He decided to give the other man the benefit of the doubt, silently reminding himself that not every person he met was a criminal.

"I didn't even know any of this had happened until yesterday." 'Jared' admitted softly, head bowed. He had a scar going down one cheek, lending him an oddly menacing aura that contrasted sharply with his quiet demeanour. "I should have realised something was up when he stopped calling; I was away on a business trip, you see." A sickly looking smile that didn't quite meet his eyes, hands now twisting nervously together. John chose not to comment on the length of this supposed business trip, instead allowing Menzies to continue to ramble on. "I mean, it's not... it wasn't unusual for us to go days with only minimal contact, especially when he was busy working on set and I was abroad but even then, he would usually text me every day, even something as small as 'Love you' or 'Miss you'. I knew something was up but I didn't think it was this bad; I never knew _this _was happening to him all along. It was only radio silence..." He tailed off sadly, a tear trickling slowly over the scar tissue. Okay, maybe this guy _was _genuine after all.

Wordlessly, the doctor opened the door to Moriarty's room and left Menzies to it.

~~~linebreak~~

John could never say what it was but something prompted him to remain outside, to eavesdrop upon what should have been a private moment. He got the sense that there was more to this than met the eye; maybe...maybe Sherlock had rubbed off on him after all.

~~~linebreak~~~

John's instincts were proven to be correct almost immediately as 'Jared Menzies' dropped the bewildered fiancé act as soon as the door swung shut, slouching over to a chair and throwing himself down onto it, burying his head in his hands rather than look at the unresponsive man lying before him. His shoulders rose steadily; he remained like that for several longs minutes before...

"Very cleaver, Jim. Just cart me off to another country so that you can do whatever the fuck you please without my interference, keep me out of the loop so I don't have a clue what you're up to and you can play your twisted little game with Holmes. Sometimes I think...no, scrap that, I _know _you prefer...preferred the freak over me. And look where it's gotten you, eh? Guess the ring didn't mean much after all."

So the ring was for real then and John was even more sure that the man was using a false name. 'Menzies' had at long last looked up, staring at Moriarty's prone form with a curled lip before quickly moving his gaze to the window. He bit his lip, ran a hand across day old stubble, looked back down at the psychopath slowly wasting away beneath crisp white sheets.

"This is so clichéd, isn't it? The hospital bedside monologue to the fallen hero who will then miraculously wake and kiss his distraught lover who has kept the vigil in his room. Only we're not heroes. And you're not going to wake up."

It was said so matter of factly that John nearly stood up there and then, only sheer determination to hear this through to the very end keeping him in place. He had been correct; 'Jared Menzies' was so much more than a mere worried fiancé kept in the dark. No, he was deep within Moriarty's organisation by the sound of things. The moments of silence were dragging on and on, the blonde haired man wringing his hands together forcefully, teeth clenched painfully tight.

"Did you even love me, Jim?" he suddenly burst out with. "Or was our so called relationship just for the sex, the thrill of taming your pet tiger? Ha...that was the meaning of love to you. Rough vicious sex and body parts left on the pillows so that I woke up with a faceful of flesh and bloodstains that wouldn't come out of the sheets. Arranging to have the delivery man killed simply because he messed up my order... But that was made you _you_; you were so..._unconventional. _And I loved it."

Suddenly, his shoulders were shaking silently, tear making tracks down his cheeks as he fought for composure.

"You're laughing at me. Somewhere, you're laughing at me for being so goddamn _weak. _Well, we're not all mental psychopaths or 'high functioning sociopaths'... You can't keep doing this to me, Jim! I didn't sign up for this; I didn't sign up for your petty games or your so called relationship or to be used as your toy! And whenever I protested, you just threw put-downs at me! '_Shut up, Seb; I pay you to shoot people and to follow orders, not to think. Now go and play with your rifles or you'll rot your brain... if there's anything there to rot that is.'_

You treated me like I was a joke; was I a joke to you? Was it all just one giant farce which you were planning to end with a surprise party and a banner? I can't do this, Jim; _I can't do this!"_

All of a sudden, John had heard enough. This was more than just the psychopath and his follower, the criminal and his goon; this was suddenly _Jim and Seb, _two men caught in a relationship that would and had destroyed them.

All of a sudden, John was glad he had nothing to do with the care of Jim Moriarty.

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**Con-crit and reviews are much appreciated. I might add on more to this but I'm not too sure**


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